


Improvise, Adapt, Overcome

by fleurlb



Category: Homeland
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 04:07:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurlb/pseuds/fleurlb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How does a decent, moral guy end up taking a job that's going to require a lot of immoral, indecent actions in the fight for a greater good?</p><p>Or...the fascinating, alarming past of Peter Quinn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Improvise, Adapt, Overcome

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rachel2205](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachel2205/gifts).



> I've not yet had a chance to watch the last episode of Season 3. It's possible that something in there conflicts with this story. Please hand-wave as needed. :)

After three tours in Vietnam, Giovanni Laguardia made a vow to himself: his kids were going to be valued for their brains and talents. They weren't going to be expendable boots on the ground. Serving your country is great, but you gotta be smart about it was a lesson that Giovanni learned about six months too late. But that was the great thing about kids – they didn't have to repeat your mistakes.

He and Betty were blessed with only one child, so his vow went from plural to singular, but the intent was the same and he wasn't shy about sharing it. “No kid of mine is gonna be just another hump. I married your mother to give you some brains, so help me, you better use them.” He shared this so much that when tensions were low, Johnny would mouth the words in chorus, roll his eyes, and then say “Yeah, Dad, I know, I know” before settling down with his books.

Another thing Giovanni said, although never in front of his son, was that if you were only going to get one kid, Johnny was the one to get. Obedient, but still with a streak of feisty independence. Loyal to the core. And, most importantly, he has honest-to-goodness brains combined with the street smarts that were vital to survival in a rough Philly neighborhood.

_**Improvise** _

I.

The middle of the first period, and John was already up by at least 9 points. He and his opponent were grappling on the mat, but John's attention was diverted by a cheer. Even in the packed middle school gym, John could still pick out Julia's voice. The other voices just blurred together like so much static on the radio as he zeroed in on the station that he wanted.

“C'mon Johnny! Do your thing!”

She'd made it. Somehow, she'd managed to travel 25 miles into the suburbs for this tournament. John angled his body to try to catch a glimpse of her. His opponent sensed the opportunity, threw an elbow, and was sudenly up on his feet. The whistle blew, marking the end of the period.

John got to his feet slowly, his eyes searching the crowd until he saw Julia. He gave her a small smile and a nod, then turned back to his opponent. The ref barked a few instructions at them, guiding them into the neutral start position. Then the whistle blew, and John launched himself across the mat. The match was over 12 seconds later.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

On the school bus back to Philadelphia, the whole team was triumphant about the win. John was too, but he had an extra reason to feel unstoppable. He'd nearly convinced himself that he'd dreamed her presence in the gym, had hallucinated her voice. But then, as the team was filing into the locker room after the match, a small hand reached out and grabbed his arm.

She squeezed, hard enough to hurt, then smiled before melting back into the crowd. John had traced the indentations that her sharp fingernails had left until they disappeared entirely. On the bus, he could nearly feel the pressure and the pinch.

Julia had lived next door to him since they were five years old. Even when he'd professed to believe that girls were full of cooties, he'd thought he might be able to make an exception for Julia, but now they were 13, and this was the first year that Julia had shown any interest in making an exception for him. Nothing had happened yet, but every look and smile seemed to make a promise that one day, _something_ would. 

When the bus finally pulled into the school yard, John could see his dad's car in the convoy behind the bus. After the team was finally released from the bus, John scanned the crowd for Julia, but he didn't see her. He headed over to his dad's car, his good mood barely dented.

His dad was still behind the wheel of the car, even though he was usually one of the first people out and ready to celebrate his son's successes. John climbed into the passenger seat and smiled.

“Good match, Johnny.”

“Thanks.”

His dad put the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot, stealing glances at him.

“But what was that move in the first period? You gave up a point for a no reason. Looked like you were looking for someone.” 

John's hand balled into a fist, but he forced it to unclench as he tried to respond more calmly than he felt. “Don't matter, Dad, I still won the damn match.”

“Language, Johnny!” 

“Sorry. I don't think it matters though.” John shifted in his seat and looked out the window. Row houses slid by, and he realized that he was looking for Julia.

“Well, it does matter. A point here, a point there, and all of the sudden you're talking about real wins and losses.”

His dad stopped the car at a red light. John looked a question at him.

“Son, life is a game of millimeters.”

John grinned. “I didn't know you were a metric man, Dad.”

“Hey, smart ass, I'm trying to teach you something here,” grumbled his dad, shooting out a large, calloused hand in a gesture that was halfway between a cuff and a tousle.

“Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Teach me.”

His dad sighed and looked off into the distance. Distractedly, he rubbed the scar on his earlobe. The one he never talked about. The light changed from red to green, and the car behind them blasted its horn. His dad shot an annoyed look into the rearview mirror, paused for a few more seconds than was necessary, then put the car into gear again.

His dad was quiet for a few minutes, making the turns that would bring them onto their one-way street. Just before he pulled up in front of their house, he finally broke the silence.

“You just gotta realize that sometimes, even things that seem stupid or petty are going to make a big difference.”

“Okay, Dad. I got it.” Even though he didn't, not really, not at that moment. Because he'd caught sight of Julia's plaid mini-skirt as she perched on the steps of her house. He hid his smile behind a hand. That skirt was something that he'd like to measure in millimeters. 

II. 

The envelope with the full ride to attend The Hill School sometimes felt more like a rock weighing John down than the parachute that his dad insisted it was. He hadn't known that places like Hill existed anywhere other than in the movies, and he sure didn't know how his dad had heard about them. He saw the quiet, invisible hand of his mother in this surprise and could imagine her researching in the local library, making phone calls, writing letters, filling out applications in her careful rounded handwriting. 

His dad, of course, thought that it was a done deal, which is why they were now celebrating by having dinner at a nice restaurant. Julia had been invited. The splurging startled John, and he realized that this was an even bigger deal than he'd thought. 

Julia sat up straight, used the right silverware, and acted, as always, like a fancy dinner with her maybe-boyfriend's family was no big deal. John admired her unflappability. His own hands were sweating, and he just wanted the whole thing to be over so he could tear off the tie and stop making polite conversation. 

“I'm so proud of you, Johnny,” his mother said, breaking an awkward silence. 

“Yeah, it's great,” he mumbled. “But, you guys, I told you before, I'm not sure I even want to go. PPS is fine for me.”

“Don't wanna go? Whaddya mean you don't wanna go?” his dad spluttered, his voice raising enough that Mom put a warning hand on his arm.

John shrugged and hunched his shoulders. At least having it out in a public place would mean no shouting. “I mean, who do I know at some fancy school? I just want to go to the regular high school that everyone else is going to.”

“And if everyone else jumped off a bridge, would you too?” His dad's favorite question.

“Actually, Johnny, I think going to this school is a great idea. The people you meet there, they're gonna be able to do things for you in the future.”

John turned and stared at Julia. She was supposed to have his back in this argument. He searched her face for the hint of a smile or an eye roll, but she looked back impassively.

“What've I been telling you, Johnny? This is the best thing that could ever happen to you. Everyone sees that,” said his dad, setting his wineglass down on the table.

“I thought you were on my side,” said John, eyes on Julia.

“I am.”

“Even Julia here gets it. I don't want you to be a dumb hump like me,” started his dad, but John cut him off.

“Not the dumb hump stuff again.”

“I'm here, working graveyard shift as a security guard for 15 years. You think that company cares one bit about me? They don't. You gotta look out for yourself and find the best way to make a good life for yourself. You're going to that school.”

Later, after dinner, John went out to the park at the end of the street. He sat on a rusty swing and stared at the weedy sandlot where he'd learned to play baseball. Julia joined him, and he wasn't sure her company was welcome. She stood in front of him, one hand on her hip like an impatient teacher.

“You know, if you wanted to break up with me, you coulda just said something instead of showing me up like that.”

“I wasn't showing you up. Or breaking up with you. Giovanni's got a point this time. Don't fight him just to be a stubborn ass.”

John kicked the dirt and watched the dust cloud billow up, then settle back down. He wasn't trying to be an ass, but he couldn't admit how terrifying the idea of walking into a room full of rich, smart strangers was.

“I'm not going to have any friends there. Bunch of rich kids. And things are going to change.”

Julia's smile was sad and tired. “Things always change, Johnny. And fuck 'em if they don't like you. But it's stupid to worry about it, because they're going to like you. Everyone always likes you.”

“So I guess I'm going,” he said, the sigh of resignation puffing out his cheeks.

Her hand on his neck was soft and warm. “Yeah, you are. But we got the whole summer to not think about it.”

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

By his senior year at The Hill School, John could barely remember his reluctance and fear. He was John, not Johnny. His schedule was loaded with AP classes, even if he didn't know if the money saved from his summer job would cover all the test fee. He was co-captain of both the wrestling and the debate teams. And while he was proud of where he came from, he didn't advertise the fact that he was on a full ride.

After winter break, his days had fallen into an easy routine of classes, wrestling practice, dinner, then hours of school work in the library. He was often the last student in the stacks, working on papers or studying for tests. 

It was a cold, snowy Wednesday in February when he left the library alone and walked briskly across the campus, enjoying the solitude. On nights like this, he found it hard to believe the campus held hundreds of kids.

A familiar voice broke through his thoughts.

“Johnny!” 

He thought he was hallucinating at first, but then he spotted Julia, half-hidden behind a tree. He was confused. She'd never been to the campus. 

Their relationship was complicated, the distance and differences interfering but the history and attraction impossible to ignore or deny during the summers. He made a point of never asking her what happened when he wasn't around, and she'd matched him in her nonchalance. But he knew this wasn't a moment in a romantic comedy. She wasn't here to suddenly declare her undying love. 

“Julia, what's wrong?”

She opened her mouth a few times, but the words were halting and John felt his heart pounding as he tried to fill in the gaps and get the story faster. “Your mom....Johnny, I'm sorry, the cancer....it's back. Giovanni doesn't want to distract you, but, Johnny, you need to see her before it's too late.”

“How did you get here?” It was a stupid question, but he couldn't think about what she'd just told him. His mother had beat cancer once, when he was 8. He had to believe that she could do it again.

“Yeah, uh, someone helped me 'borrow' a car.”

John smiled. He didn't know if he was more curious about the word “borrow” or the word “someone.” 

“Where did you park?”

“Over on the main road, a ways down from the main gate.” She held her hand out to him. He pulled a hand out of his pocket and took hers, which was cold and chapped. 

“Let's go,” she said.

“Julia, I can't. Not right now. I need to go to my dorm and be there for the first check at 11.”

She dropped her hand and shrugged. “Okay, whatever. I just thought you had a right to know.”

He put his hands on her shoulders. “And I'm grateful that you told me. I need to figure out how I can get out of here and see her, without getting into trouble or having Dad find out.”

“Just don't wait too long, Johnny.”

She took three steps back into the shadows and then was gone. John could hear her sneakers crunching on the snow. He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers into them. He had no idea how he was going to see his mother, but he knew he had to figure out a way.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

At first, the 50 miles from The Hill School to John's house seemed like it might as well be 5,000. John tackled the problem like a geometry theorem, considering all the angles and possibilities, wondering how he could ever make the problem make sense. He considered just telling the school, maybe even dropping out, but he knew that his father would never accept that decision.

The first piece of the puzzle was transportation, and that was solved by raiding his AP test fund to buy a cheap motorcycle. The engine was tiny, the exhaust pipe was duct-taped on, and the thing sounded like a wheezy lawnmower. But it could do 50 mph, the helmet was free, and it was easy to hide in the woods at the edge of the school.

The next piece was timing. John quickly figured out that going in the middle of the night was foolish. Better to use the cover of students to slip away, then come back before curfew. His dad worked the 3-11 evening shift, so that wouldn't be a factor.

The last piece was just doing it, putting his nerves aside and taking action. Johnny needed a few days to gather the courage. As he flew down the highway, he found that breaking the school rules was the easy part. Not knowing what he was going to find at home, the fear that maybe this story wouldn't have a good ending, that was the hard part.

He arrived at his house in the early evening, parked the motorcycle behind the house, and went in the back door. 

“Ma? I'm home,” he shouted, not wanting to scare her.

He found her in the living room, wrapped in a blanket and dozing on the couch. He sat down on the floor and leaned his head against hers. She looked small, diminished and unhealthily pale. Her eyelids fluttered and then opened.

“Johnny, what are you doing here?” she asked.

“I'm not really here, Ma, you're dreaming,” he replied, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze.

“In that case, it's a good dream.” Her smile reminded him of Christmases and birthdays, and he had to look away before he embarrassed himself with tears. 

He stayed for less than an hour, then headed back to The Hill. He knew that he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't see his mother as much as possible. So sneaking off campus became his new routine, and he became frighteningly good at melting into the crowd before disappearing.

His visits were peaceful moments of stolen time. Sometimes, his mother slept. Mostly, she just looked at him, like she was trying to memorize his face. They never talked about the future, and they barely talked about the present. Instead, she told him stories of when he was younger, and, when her condition really deteriorated, she told him stories about her own childhood. 

He didn't tell her that he won a big debate tournament. He kept quiet about his wrestling victories. He never told her that he got into Harvard. When they were together, he felt like none of that mattered. He just wanted to hear her voice and listen to her stories for as long as he could.

In May, when John was summoned out of AP History, he knew that either his disappearances had finally been noticed or that his mother was dead. Opening the door to the principal's office, he knew that from the slump of his dad's shoulders, his secret was safe. They were given privacy and all his dad could say was “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Johnny. We didn't want to disrupt your studies.”

John kept his face blank, not wanting to prolong the torment that his dad was obviously in, but somehow feeling exhilarated by the time he'd been able to spend with his mother, and the fact that he'd done it all without getting caught.

III.

His mother's funeral was a lot like her life, small and dignified. She had a handful of friends from grade school who wept in the second row. A couple of his dad's friends sat in the middle of the empty church. The Hill School had offered to send a contingent, but finals were around the corner, and John had declined the offer. His plan was to spend a single night off-campus before returning. He wasn't quite foolish enough to think that he could go on like nothing had happened, but he'd had more time to come to terms with events than most people realized.

John stood in the front row, with his dad on his right and Julia on his left. She stayed by his side for the whole day, even riding in the limo. When they finally returned to the block, John walked her to her front door. He thanked her, and she just put a finger lightly to his lips. She didn't quite smile, but her face had never looked more kind. He wanted to grab her hand and run away, leave everything behind and start a new life somewhere else. 

Instead, he kissed her cheek and walked back to his house, resisting the urge to look over his shoulder. He loosened his tie as he eased the front door open. The drapes were still pulled tight, and the house had a stale, unused feel. His father was hunched over in his chair, his head in his hands.

“I'm going to do some homework and hit the sack.”

“Where are you going to college?” The question hung in the air, as unexpected as it was unwelcome.

“I don't know, Dad. Do I really have to decide now?”

“I saw the way you were looking at her. You can't let yourself get sidetracked now.”

John sighed and shook his head as he made to walk up the stairs.

“Johnny, don't walk away when I'm talking to you.”

“So talk.” He didn't turn around. He couldn't look at his father right now, not when the anger was bubbling up in his gut and he suddenly couldn't trust himself.

“Nevermind, I don't wanna keep you from your studies.” His dad's voice sounded so small that it scared the fight right out of John.

He went upstairs and sat at his desk. His books were open, but he couldn't focus on a single word. He knew he'd go to Harvard, Class of 2001. But he wasn't doing it for his dad. He was doing it because he remembered seeing his mother's handiwork in the admission to The Hill School. He knew what was important to her, and he knew that he'd honor it.

_**Adapt** _

I.  
The four years at Harvard were an exile. All John thought about was how to get back to Philadelphia and Julia. They continued their on/off relationship, but it was an open secret that he wanted to lose the “/off” part.

The law school at the University of Pennsylvania offered him a full ride, so he took it, even though he wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to be a lawyer. His dad always joked that he loved arguing, so he was destined to be a lawyer, but John wasn't sure. All he knew was that he wanted to be close to Julia, and, if things went well, they'd be able to figure the rest out together.

He moved back home, although with his mother dead and his dad living up in New Jersey, it barely felt like home anymore. His dad moving out had happened about a year earlier. “Better job, better benefits, fewer ghosts” was how he'd explained his decision to take up a private security gig at an insurance company in the World Trade Center. John suspected he'd been putting the best face on a bad situation, although at least he was working a normal day shift and had much better benefits. 

The summer was hot, and he spent a lot of time at Julia's studio apartment because it was less stuffy and more breezy than his place. Her breathing had slowed, and John thought she might be nearly asleep.

“Move in with me,” he said.

Her laugh was gentle and amused. She shook her head, and he blinked when her hair brushed against his forehead.

“Why not? It's silly for you to be paying rent when there's a perfectly good house we could live in for just the cost of utilities.”

“You seem to forget that my mother still lives next door. Last thing I need is her lecturing me about living in sin. It's bad enough that she suspects that you spend the night here.”

“If living in sin is your only objection, there's a solution to that problem,” he said, putting a hand on her cheek.

Julia rolled on her side and propped her head on her hand. She looked down at him for what felt like an eternity, the half-proposal, half-joke hanging in the air between them. He wish that he hadn't said anything, but he also wished that he'd said more.

When she finally spoke, her voice was barely more than a whisper. “Johnny, you know I love you, but the whole basis of our relationship so far has been time apart. We've been apart too long to mess with a good thing.”

“Or maybe,” he countered, rolling to his side and matching her body language. “We could have a whole new, better thing.”

She leaned forward and kissed him, then pressed her forehead into his. “Let's just see how living in the same city goes first. You've been away a long time. You've probably forgotten what a ball-buster I can be.”

“Maybe that's what I like best about you.” He tried to kiss her, but she gently pushed him back onto his pillow and then put her head on his chest.

“Easy partner, I've got to get some sleep. I'm working a double tomorrow.”

“I'm working tomorrow too.”

She laughed. “Teaching kids karate barely qualifies as work.”

“Four years and you're still calling it karate? It's aikido.”

“It's jumping around in pajamas,” she said. 

“Well, it's not catching bad guys in the 13th precinct, but it's all I'm qualified to do right now.”

She pressed a finger to his mouth, and he closed his eyes. It didn't matter to him if she wanted to keep her studio. They were together, in the same city. The rest was just minor details.

II. 

The first week of law school was a book-filled blur. He was keeping up, but he wasn't enjoying the slog of reading and briefing dozens of cases every night. The lack of variety was already driving him demented, and he longed for his undergraduate days of being able to take a random course outside of his major. 

Tuesday was already his favorite day, because he only had two classes, and they didn't start until 11. He relished staying in bed, feeling the sunlight on his face. It was the only morning that he allowed himself to be lazy. 

He heard the door open, but he could tell by the noise that it was just Julia. He wasn't sure how she was on the job, but off-duty, she had all the stealth of a herd of wild elephants. John rolled over and checked the clock, which was showing 3 minutes to 9. 

He blinked and ran a hand through his hair, then he realized that Julia sounded like she was rushing, almost panicking, and a strange feeling came over him, the certainty that something was wrong. He was up and out of bed, pulling on a pair of jeans when she burst into his room, still wearing her police uniform.

“Johnny, which World Trade Center building does Giovanni work in?”

“The one with the observation deck. What is it, South Tower?”

“South? You're sure?” Her expression relaxed. “Come downstairs, I don't know what's going on, but a plane hit the North Tower. I heard the news in the car when I was going home from work and headed straight here.”

He followed her downstairs, where they turned on the ancient television set, which flickered and protested until the picture slid onto the screen. The scene was a live shot of the Twin Towers, one of them now scarred by smoke. The newscasters' voices were smooth and practiced as a man on the scene tried to explain what had happened.

And then the second plane hit. John blinked, not able to believe what he'd seen. Julia grabbed his hand, cursing under her breath, then they just watched in silence, his mind trying to assemble the facts into logical order, but this wasn't the kind of logic that he wanted to understand. His dad was in there, somewhere.

Julia's pager went off, and she squeezed his hand before going into the kitchen to make a phone call. 

“Sorry, Johnny, I've got to go back into work. They're calling everybody back into work. No one knows what's going on, or what's going to happen next.”

He nodded. “I need your car. I'll drop you at the station house.”

She handed over her keys, and he drove without speaking, the radio tuned to NPR, a sure sign that this must be a dire emergency if she was both letting him drive and listen to No Party Radio, as she called it. She wasn't saying anything this morning, just listening with wide eyes, her expression both confused and hurt.

John pulled up in front of the station house, and Julia leaned over to kiss him.

“Be careful,” she said.

“Come with me.” He meant to say it as a command, but it sounded more like a prayer.

“Johnny, you know I can't, I've got to work. But as soon as I can get away, I'll find you.”

He waved away her words, feeling foolish that he'd made the request. 

“Sorry, I'm not thinking right. I just need to go.” He reached out for her hand, not wanting his words to sound like a dismissal. She wrapped her arms around him, an awkward gesture in the small car, but he took the comfort gratefully.

After he heard the door shut, he pulled away from the curb, not trusting himself to look at her in the rearview mirror as he drove away. He kept his eyes on the road and both hands on the steering wheel. His foot itched to floor the accelerator, but he managed to control the impulse on the city streets and across the Ben Franklin Bridge.

All bets were off when he finally hit the Jersey Turnpike. The ancient Honda Civic complained as the speedometer pushed through the 70s and into the 80s. Shortly after he passed Cherry Hill, the radio informed him of the unthinkable: the South Tower had collapsed.

John pushed the Civic harder, driving aggressively through the surprisingly light traffic. His mind was having a hard time making sense of the reported devastation. He'd just been to visit his dad over Labor Day Weekend. His dad had proudly taken him up the observation deck and shown him the whole city, even pointing out the tiny speck in Hoboken where he lived in a studio apartment with black cat who was incongruously named Goldilocks.

When John had asked about the cat's name, his dad had a ready explanation. “Nothing's ever good enough for her. She always wants the food or the comfy spot or the toy that's juuuuuust right.” John had grinned and wondered when his dad had gotten a sense of whimsy.

He couldn't deny that Dad had looked good, like he was finally at peace with his wife's death. The change of scenery had done him a world of good. After being tourists in the city, his dad took him back to Hoboken, and they went into his favorite bar, a good-sized neighborhood place with cheap drafts, comfy chairs, and burgers the size of your head.

John heard the car start to wheeze and looked down at the dashboard. The temperature indicator was in the red, so he eased off onto the shoulder. When he stopped the car, he could see wispy smoke puffing up from underneath the hood. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the steering wheel as he gathered his thoughts and formulated a plan.

After a deep breath, he stepped out of the car and opened the hatchback, oddly thankful that Julia was such a pack rat. He managed to find a bit of poster board from an ancient school project and a pen that just about worked. He started to write.

“My dad works on the 84th floor, South Tower. Need to get to the WTC.”  
He checked that the sign made sense. Was the WTC still a place? Was it the World Trade Center if the core was just a smoking ruin? He knew he was focusing on the second half of the sentence because he couldn't bear that questions that the first half would raise. He suspected that his English teacher at The Hill might point out that present tense wasn't appropriate any more.

“It's not a term paper. It's just a sign,” he muttered.

He slammed the hatchback shut and stepped up to the side of the turnpike. He held his sign and tried to make eye contact with the drivers, a difficult feat when most cars were going over 60 mph. He didn't know how long he waited, the breeze from the passing cars rustling the edges of his sign. It felt like days as every cell in his body screamed that he should be moving. 

John dropped the sign. He knew that his dad was gone, and he didn't know what he'd hoped to find or do by rushing up to the scene. He'd heard Julia complain enough about lookey-lous to know that the last thing anyone needed was some half-insane grieving asshole demanding answers and wanting to do something, anything, to help. 

The walk back to his house took over three hours. He called and left a message for Julia at the station house, then sat down in front of the television and tried to understand what the hell had happened. He lost track of time and barely registered when the sun set and the only light came from the flickering television. 

Julia came home to him at some point, but the night was a deluge of televised images of destruction. He barely heard her words or felt her hands. All he felt was an emptiness growing inside him.

 

III.

John watched Goldilocks wander around her new home and realized how fitting her name was. She was hoping to find the spot that was just right. John empathized with her more than he wanted to admit. He, too, was feeling lost and displaced in law school and wanted to find the place that was right for him.

His first stop was the Marine recruiting office, where he'd had to wait for several hours only to be turned away. The recruiter's reasoning was sound ( _finish law school, join the Judge Advocate General corps_ ), and he knew that his dad would have wanted him to be an officer, a lawyer, somebody with pull, not just a mindless jarhead. 

He toyed with the idea of becoming a firefighter, but that didn't quite fit the bill either. John realized what he wanted, more than anything, was to catch the bad guys responsible for turning the world upside down. Not for vengeance, but just because it was the right thing to do. For every action, there was an equal and opposite reaction. And his reaction was to make things right, even if they could never be right again. 

For the first time in his life, John skipped classes and spent most of his time brooding and working out. He only set foot on the U-Penn campus to use the gym, where he punished himself with grueling morning workouts. The physical challenges were the only time the black cloud lifted from his brain. 

In the afternoons, with his body near exhaustion from the gym, he'd run to the aikido dojo and train with the owner before evening classes started. The action-reaction of aikido, the practiced forms a second nature for him, relaxed and calmed him. The gentle sounds of their feet on the mats and the rustling of their gis was a soundtrack that emptied all the terrible sounds and images from his head. It was only in the dojo that he could focus and forget that buildings can fall down and fathers can disappear in an instant. 

In October, the weather was unseasonably warm. The dojo's door was usually propped open any time the temperature rose into the 60s. When John arrived to find the door closed, even though, judging by the rivers of sweat running down his back, the temperature had to be over 80, he thought that the place must be closed. But a peek in the window revealed a gi-clad man warming up in front of the mirrored wall. 

John pulled open the door and walked in. The man looked up but didn't turn around, instead he made eye contact with John's reflection in the mirror. 

“Good afternoon,” said the man. 

“Yeah, where's Richard?” 

The man turned and walked over to John, holding out a hand, which John shook firmly. “I'm Dar Adal. Richard had some business to take care of. He and I are old friends. We worked together in Nairobi. Did he ever tell you about his time in Nairobi?”

“We mostly just train. Richard's not much into talking.” 

“I can train with you this afternoon. Richard thought we'd be a good match.”

John shrugged. “Sure, just give me a few minutes to get changed.”

Dar brought his hands together and bowed his head once. “Of course. I'm in no hurry.”

John looked the man over once more, taking in the collection of wrinkles around his eyes, the graying of his goatee, and the slight paunch at his waistline. He supposed the guy could be a friend of Richard's, but the guy had at least 10 or 15 years on Richard, who had never mentioned venturing outside of Philadelphia, never-mind working on the other side of the world. Something didn't smell right here. 

John headed back to the office and let himself in with his key, which he still had for teaching classes on the weekend. He changed quickly into the gi that he kept in the small changing room that adjoined the office. Then he picked up the phone and dialed Richard's cell phone number. The phone rang three times before Richard picked up, the drone of traffic noise nearly drowning out his words.

“Johnny, I guess you met my friend. I probably should've warned you.”

“It's fine, I just wanted to make sure everything was on the up-and-up.”

“It's all good. All good.”

John pressed the palm of his hand into his left eye, which had inexplicably started to twitch. “That's a relief. I kind of half-expected your phone to ring out and then to read about somebody finding your body in a box.”

Richard's laugh was abrupt and loud, a rifle-shot of a chuckle. “You always had good instincts, Johnny. You going to train with him?”

“I might as well, seeing as we're both here.”

“Great. Watch out for him, he'll surprise you.”

John disconnected the call and squared his shoulders. He took a deep breath and told himself that he was being silly. This was just another training session, same as any other. But that little voice in the back of head didn't want to settle down.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Dar was a worthy training partner, who possessed an agility and grace that surprised John. He also had a killer throw and an uncanny ability to predict his opponent's moves. For the next few months, he was at the dojo nearly every time John arrived. Sometimes they trained together. Other times, Dar watched him train with Richard.

John was unnerved by the watching. He'd noticed that Dar rarely blinked. He hadn't felt so assessed and observed since his wrestling years, when he could practically feel the eyes of the college scouts cutting through him during matches. 

He wanted to ask Richard about Dar, but he hardly ever had the chance to talk to Richard alone. On the rare occasion that Dar wasn't in the dojo, Richard busied himself with phone calls. The most John could get out of him was the fact that he'd done security work in Nairobi. John found the description vague to the point of useless, but Richard refused to elaborate.

Julia was endlessly fascinated by the mysterious stranger, and John found himself entertaining her with stories of their training. John knew that the emptiness was still inside of him, but he didn't feel a million miles away from Julia anymore. He had practically dropped out of school because he couldn't stand the way people looked at him, but with Julia, things were on a more normal keel.

One November evening, while John was chopping onions for a spaghetti sauce and trying not to cry, he finally realized who Dar reminded him of.

“Dar's like the Terminator,” he said, looking away from the onions. Julia was sitting at the kitchen table, balancing her checkbook. Her hair curtained her face, but when she lifted her head, he could see her smile.

“The Terminator,” she repeated, unconvinced.

“Yeah, the way he looks at me. It's like he has a little screen inside his eyeballs that tells him what move I'm going to make next and what I'm made of.”

Julia stood up and walked over to the stove, where a saucepan held chopped tomatoes. She picked up a spoon to stir the pan, but John waved her off.

“So, Dar Adal is the Terminator, come back from the future to find John Connor,” she said.

“Good thing my last name is Laguardia, or I'd be bricking it,” he laughed.

“Seems like all this has been good for you.”

“Yeah,” said John, a bit surprised to hear himself agreeing with her. “My dad used to say that a change is a good as a rest. And this year, with all the change, it hasn't been a good rest. But it's starting to feel different.” 

Julia wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest. “Different would be good.”

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

The unseasonably warm weather lasted into January. Finally, Philadelphia had its first snow, the fat thick flakes coating the city streets. John skipped the gym that morning, then walked to the dojo in the early afternoon, enjoying the crunch of his footsteps on the crisp snow. He found Dar slouched against the front of the building, reading a newspaper, a flat cap pulled low over his forehead.

“Building's closed. A pipe burst,” said Dar.

“You stuck around to tell me that? Seems like a note or phone call could've saved you a lot of trouble.”

Dar's smile reminded John of a cobra in a story book his mother used to read when he was a child. “Ah John, you miss nothing. I was hoping we could talk.”

John shrugged and gestured for Dar to continue.

“Not here.” Without waiting for John's response, Dar turned and walked to the corner of the building, then turned down the narrow alley.

John followed him through several alleys until they came to the unassuming shopfront of a Korean restaurant. Dar walked in, bowed to the woman who was standing near the cash register, and spoke to her in Korean. She smiled and nodded, then Dar lead John back to a small, dimly lit room with a low table and pillows on the floor.

“I guess you're a regular here.” John settled himself on the floor, his eyes slowly adjusting to the lack of light.

Dar sat down across from John. “This isn't my first rodeo, and I usually find the direct approach the best.”

The muscles in John's arms and legs tightened reflexively, his body already launching into its finely tuned fight-or-flight mode. He forced himself to breathe deeply and hoped that his face revealed nothing.

“I'm in charge of a special group of operatives inside a government agency. In fact, you might call it The Agency. I'd like to recruit you to work for us.”

John laughed and shook his head as he looked away. When he looked back, Dar's face was impassive, his eyes still assessing. The smile fell away from John's lips.

“Why me? Don't you usually go after Special Forces guys or prime assets who are already in-country?” John wanted to fidget, but he forced himself to put his hands flat on the table and watch Dar closely.

“You're not without talents. You're a graduate of The Hill School and Harvard. You have a gift for languages and already speak Spanish and Italian fluently. You're skilled in aikido.”

“Big deal. I'm not an Arabic speaker. I have no weapons training.”

“Arabic.” Dar made a dismissive sound and shook his head. “Do you think that all we need is a few guys who can speak Arabic and shoot guns?”

“Then what is it that you think I can do?”

“What do I think you can do? I think you can do anything. And I think, that to catch the people responsible for what happened to your father, you would do anything.”

John clenched his teeth. A muscle near his jawbone twitched. But he said nothing for several long minutes. The pleasant Korean woman came in and deposited two plates of food on the table. Dar thanked her, then picked up his chopsticks and started to eat.

“And if I say yes?”

“Then you'll start your formal training soon, after we've completed our background check.” 

Eyes closed, John considered the offer. He knew he should talk it over with Julia. But some part of him was afraid that she'd talk him out of it. He realized that Dar was offering him something that he desperately needed, the missing piece of the puzzle he'd become after his dad's death. He wasn't stupid enough to think that there weren't strings and catches and hidden traps associated with this offer, but he also knew that he'd never be able to live with himself if he didn't take it.

His acceptance was a simple nod, which he knew was enough. He and Dar ate their lunches in silence, the details suddenly unimportant. Giovanni would've told him that the devil was always in the details, but at that moment, the devil was the furtherest thing from John's mind.

_**Overcome** _

I.  
Within a month of accepting Dar's recruitment offer, John sold his house and officially dropped out of law school. Julia never questioned his decision and she never complained, but he could still see a shadow of doubt in her eyes.

On the day that he left for The Farm, he could feel a hesitancy in her good-bye kiss. He pressed his forehead against hers, then hugged her close, burying his face into her neck. He wanted to memorize her smell and her warmth, to take it with him and use it for strength when things got tough, as they undoubtedly would.

“Our normal relationship status is apart,” he whispered in her ear.

“I'm not worried about being apart,” she said, pulling back to look into his eyes. “I'm worried about who you're going to be when we're together again.”

“I'm going to be the same old Johnny,” he promised.

Weeks later, when he was creeping through a forest, barefoot and frightened, he remembered his foolhardy promise and wondered how he'd be able to keep it. He steadied his breathing and focused on the job at hand, which got him through the forest. And the next mission. And the one after that.

The training felt never-ending. He learned how to handle weapons and explosives. He learned how to work in a team, but also how to work alone. He learned about spycraft, about dead-drops and anti-survelliance techniques. He learned how to pick locks, break codes, evade security systems, and hot-wire vehicles. He learned urban combat tactics and wilderness survival skills. He studied Urdu and Arabic, computer programming, and enough practical first aid to qualify as a field medic.

When he thought his brain might burst from all the training, Dar would send him off on vacation some place warm, but he would use what he had learned to find a way to Julia, to meet her surreptitiously in anonymous rest areas on the Pennsylvania turnpike, and then disappear into the crowd with her. He suspected that Dar knew what he did on his “time at liberty,” but he didn't care. Time with Julia was more than precious. It was as essential as oxygen, and he inhaled more deeply whenever he was with her.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

After nearly two years of training, Dar joined him on the 5-mile run that had become his daily habit. John pushed the pace, but Dar hung within striking distance of him, so John eventually tired of the game and eased back.

“Don't go easy on me now,” said Dar, his words slightly reedy from breathlessness.

John raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. He kept his eyes on the trail, alert and ready. Anything new was a warning flag, and Dar had never run with him before.

“You're about ready. We're going to do a few more training missions. You'll have two weeks off first. Since you always end up in Philly, we'll send you there.”

John's nod was a curt acceptance of his orders. The end of the trail was in sight, and John slowed down and then walked. 

“You'll want to use this time to... reduce entanglements. Do you understand?” 

“I don't remember anything in all those contracts and non-disclosure agreements that said I couldn't have a private life in my time off.” John stopped walking and put his hands on his hips.

“I'm making a suggestion. One born of bitter experience. You might take my advice, make your life a little easier.”

“If I wanted an easy life, I wouldn't be here.”

Dar's smile was icy. “Indeed you wouldn't. Carry on.”

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

The first week back with Julia was nearly a honeymoon, except that it lacked the joyful celebration of a life about to start together. They were happy to be together, but understood that the respite was temporary and the future was certain only to include uncertainty. John put aside those concerns and just focused on Julia. As long as he could see in her eyes that he was the same old Johnny, he could relax and breathe.

Julia had moved while he was gone and was living in a small apartment building a few blocks from Richard's dojo. She was working the day shift now, and John fell into an easy routine of slipping out in the morning to train at the dojo while Julia was at work. 

After a particularly intense afternoon of training with Richard, John returned to Julia's building. As he was walking up the six steps outside, the front door pushed open and Julia's captain stepped out.

“Johnny! Haven't seen you in ages. How's things going?” asked the captain. 

“Great,” John replied, shaking the man's hand. “How about you?”

“Couldn't be better, well, it could, but I got 5 more before retirement. Listen, I won't keep you. Julia just asked me to drop off her purse, she left it at the station house. She's upstairs making dinner for your friend. I didn't catch his name.”

The hairs on the back of John's neck stood up. “My friend?”

“Or your boss. I dunno, we weren't introduced.”

John slapped the man on the back and pushed past him, keeping his voice light and jocular. “I'm late as usual. Good to see you!”

“Don't be a stranger,” replied the captain, but his words were muted by the heavy door as it closed behind John. He took the stairs three at a time, racing up to the top floor. When he arrived at Julia's apartment, he pushed the door open and announced himself casually.

“Jules, I'm home.”

“In here, Johnny,” she replied. He followed her voice back to the kitchen, where he found her chopping tomatoes while Dar sat at the kitchen table, looking out of place and amused.

“Dar. This is a surprise,” said John, his tone suggesting that the surprise wasn't of the pleasant variety.

“Julia invited me,” said Dar, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender intended to calm John's rattled nerves. 

“Yeah, that's also a surprise,” replied John, focusing his attention on Julia.

She smiled and put the knife on the counter. “I just wanted to get the elephant out of the room. Talk about what happens next. We've always been a team, Johnny, and I still want to be on your team, but these decisions aren't ours anymore.”

“I appreciate your forthrightness, Ms. Diaz,” said Dar. “I also appreciate your resourcefulness in finding me and setting up this meeting. Would you like a job with the agency? I'd say you and _Johnny_ would make a formidable team.”

“I got a job already.”

“Their gain is our loss,” replied Dar. He paused for a few beats, as though weighing his words. “What happens next is that John will be away a lot, but he'll also have time off. I suggest you move to a bigger apartment building, where his infrequent comings and goings won't be noticed.”

Julia nodded. 

“What you tell people is, of course, your own business, but you're going to want to be careful for your own sake.”

“Is that a threat?” asked Julia. John allowed himself a small smile. Julia patrolled one of the roughest precincts in Philly. She wasn't going to be deterred by thinly veiled threats.

“No, dear, that's practical advice. The worst case scenario when an operative has a family is that a target learns about the operative, learns about the family, and then uses the family as leverage. Or worse.”

“So why do operatives have families then?” she asked.

“Believe me, I advised against entanglements, but John here seems to have other ideas. And I did my research before recruitment. If there's anyone who can handle this, it's you. I have no concerns. Any concerns you have in future, contact Richard.” 

Dar stood up and buttoned his sports coat. “I'm sure dinner will be lovely. You two have a lot to talk about. John, I'll be in touch.”

John waited until he heard the apartment door close, then he retraced Dar's steps and locked and chained the door. Back in the kitchen, he wrapped his arms around Julia and squeezed her tight. Now that Dar was out of the apartment, all he could think about was what the man was capable of. 

“I don't think you know what you just did,” said John, pulling back to look into her eyes.

“Why do you think I had Cap stop by? You really think I forgot my purse? I'm not stupid. I just wanted to know if this is going to work.”

“And is it?” 

“Nobody knows the future, Johnny, but at least now I know it's possible. I got no idea what it's going to look like, but we'll figure it out.” Her smile was an invitation, and he took it, forgetting all about Dar and the dinner party that never was. 

 

II.  
John's first job was in Berlin. He traveled on an authentic looking Italian passport, and he could see Dar's handiwork in the name: Lorenzo Giovanni Adessi. He wore expensive Italian shoes and designer eyeglass frames with plain glass in the lenses. For two weeks, John followed his target and checked dead-drops until finally, the order came through.

The butterfly flutter of nerves as he held the coded message surprised him, but he took a deep breath and let his mind slide into blankness to focus on the job at hand. Break it up into small steps, complete the small steps, then get out of there. He was trained, ready, and certain of his target's misdeeds.

John went into the target's building in the disguise of a maintenance worker, then picked two locks and infiltrated his apartment. He gathered up laptops and flash drives, found a sharp kitchen knife, and ransacked the place to make it look like a robbery. Then he took up a position near the front door and waited. 

The waiting lasted longer than he expected, the seconds ticking into minutes that started to add up. After two hours, the target returned, a dead man who just didn't know it yet. The job was done before the door even clicked shut behind him. John dropped the knife and walked out. He followed his plan, changing clothes in a dark alley before casually walking the several blocks to the S-bahn station, where he made the pre-arranged phone call to tell Dar the job was done.

John's extraction route was purposefully convoluted. He took every precaution to make sure he wasn't followed back to Philadelphia, even staying in a flophouse in the city for a week to dispel any doubts. He found being apart in “their” city was the hardest part of the job. 

When he was finally sure that he was alone and untraced, he headed to Julia's at rush hour, blending into the crowd. The apartment building was perfect, busy and anonymous, and he slipped right in and then let himself into her apartment, where she was sitting on the couch, reading a book.

“Jules, I'm home,” he said softly, putting his keys down on the side table. She put her book down and looked up.

John walked to the couch, each step deliberate, like a deep-sea diver coming up slowly. The need for oxygen was overwhelming, but the need to acclimate and adjust was essential. He sat down and took her hand, pulling it to his lips to kiss it. He looked into her eyes and the moment hung between them. 

“I don't like the goatee,” she said.

He ran a hand over his chin. “Then I'll get rid of it.”

“Now. And don't ever come in here again with one of those.”

“It's a deal.” He smiled and relaxed, finally home again. 

 

III.  
The next few years were a blend of jobs involving bad guys followed by time off. Some missions were just intelligence-gathering operations, others were targeted killings. John's goal was always to come home normal enough that Julia wouldn't see the toll that the work sometimes took on him. Usually, he succeeded. 

John spent five months deep undercover in Argentina, infiltrating and gathering intelligence on a terrorist cell that had serious aspirations and even more serious firepower. The mission had been the most dangerous and draining of his career. Afterward, he wanted nothing more than to spend a week in bed with Julia and forget everything he ever knew about explosives and high-powered weapons.

He let himself into her apartment, grinning at the smell of spaghetti sauce simmering on the stove. Almost like she expected him to come home. 

“Jules, I'm home,” he called as he walked toward the kitchen. He found her at the stove, back toward him, head bowed over the bubbling saucepan.

She turned slowly, her face a mask of uncertainty. His heart dropped. The last job had so many bad moments, he couldn't forget everything he'd done. He feared this would be the time that she rejected him, branded him damaged beyond redemption.

Then he saw her belly, the round bump under a billowy shirt. He blinked in surprise, then a grin spread across his face. He crossed the kitchen in three long strides and hugged her, then gingerly placed his hands on her belly. He could feel something, no, _someone_ moving in there. He lifted his head and met her eyes.

“I'm sorry, no one told me,” he said, wincing at the weak explanation.

“I know. I didn't tell anyone.” She placed her hands on his chest, a gesture that was both intimate and remote, as though she were both supporting and holding him back.

He pressed his forehead into hers. “We'll figure this out.” 

“I know.” Her hands slid up and around his neck, pulling him into a tender embrace. He leaned into her, breathing deeply, and closed his eyes. He saw ghosts and bad guys, knew that he couldn't walk away from his job, but he also knew he wasn't going to abandon Julia and their child.

“I'll be here as much as I can. Maybe pick up more analyst work. And when bin Laden and Abu Nazir are caught-”

Julie pressed a finger to his lips. “There's always going to be more bad guys, Johnny. And as long as you feel like you need to catch them, then you need to catch them.”

“No kid of mine is going to grow up without a father.”

She looked him in the eye, her steely resolve reminding him of everything he loved about her. “Damn straight. No dumb humps, no absent fathers.”

He kissed her, knowing that the future was uncertain, and his had just gotten a lot more complicated. But, as always, he knew that they'd adapt and adjust, both together and apart. 

/fin

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the opportunity to write about a criminally under-used and endlessly fascinating character! Hope you enjoyed the story. Merry Yuletide!


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